


Fifth Time's a Charm

by Rayearthmagic



Series: Avid Readers [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22034536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayearthmagic/pseuds/Rayearthmagic
Summary: Prequel. How many tries will it take before Prowl get a clue? Don't give up, Jazz!
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Series: Avid Readers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586011
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	Fifth Time's a Charm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rizobact](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/gifts).



> May the new year bring you good tidings, Rizo! You're my fave JazzXProwl shipper! <3

It had started without Jazz knowing about it, and by the time it was obvious to himself, he was already in too deep. He had tried to brush it off as temporary infatuation, a temporary crush, and even as temporary insanity. But the more he had tried to deny his feelings, the stronger they seemed to become. And it wasn’t long before he stopped fighting it. 

Having a crush on the Autobots’ tactical officer was not something Jazz had ever imagine happening to him. Sure, he’s had a fling here and there with bots on the team for fun, but after a full year of catching his optics following Prowl (and his perky aft), he couldn’t deny his feelings anymore. 

Although being his near polar opposite, Prowl had a hidden sense of humor and a kind spark that many rarely saw beyond his impassive and serious façade. When Jazz was first introduced to the tactical officer vorns ago, he could not imagine having anything more of a relationship with him beside a professional one. Being fun-loving and outgoing, Jazz liked being around more lively mechs. 

But as time wore on, the special ops mech found himself hanging out more and more in Prowl’s quiet office. While most mechs were wary of Jazz, they were actually terrified of Prowl. Despite the rest of the team giving them wide berth, the duo built a simple trust that they would never delve into each other’s secrets unless they were willingly and voluntarily shared.

Discovering his feelings for Prowl was one thing, doing something about it was another. He wondered if their friendship could develop into something deeper, something more meaningful. If his feelings could be reciprocated. He’d seen it happen to a few bots on the team, and if it worked out for them, maybe it could work for him and Prowl as well. But doubt clouded his usual optimism and Jazz spent more time analyzing Prowl’s behavior than actually taking action. 

Eventually status quo was not good enough anymore, and Jazz wanted more. He found himself staring at Prowl’s hand, itching to touch it and to hold it, to give affection to this wonderful mech. One day, he doesn’t remember when exactly, but the blue of Prowl’s optics became his favorite color. They were not quite cerulean or ice blue. Maybe more like that precious mineral he’s seen on Earth, a sapphire. A blue that was rich and hid fire underneath. 

If someone asked Jazz, he wouldn’t be able to pick just one single favorite thing about the Praxian. Yeah, he had it bad. But what could be done about it?

What they had was good enough and he shouldn’t be asking for more. After all, they should all be counting their blessings for being back online after millions of years of stasis. For all they knew, they could have kept on sleeping for another few million years. 

But for Jazz, that was actually the turning point. What if they _did_ end staying in stasis for another million years or worse? Right now, the second chance was staring him in the face, and he wasn’t a passive mech to let such a golden opportunity slip through his digits. 

At first, Jazz had foolishly hoped that Prowl would simply catch on. Being the owner of one of the most powerful tactical computers on Cybertron, it must have already clued him in to Jazz’s feeling, right? 

Apparently not.

Prowl just went on as normal, not even blinking when he caught Jazz smiling tenderly at him. 

Ok, maybe that was too subtle. After all, hadn’t Jazz smiled at him all the time? How different was this smile from any another one in the entirety of their friendship? 

Next, he left energon candies (from his secret stash, no less) on Prowl’s desk. Sweet stuff for the sweet mech. As Cybertronian courting traditions went, this one was a classic one. Granted, he didn’t have the sweeter more expensive stuff mechs used for love declarations, but they weren’t on their home planet and this were the sweetest candies Jazz had in his possession. Prowl should know about this. Even the universe was on his side, as it was Valentine’s Day on Earth, a day for lovers and potential ones. Surely, the message was clear this time. 

But no. 

Prowl thanked him and went about their usual relaxed evening conversations. Not that Jazz minded, but he had been hoping for something more than just the gentle look he received. Maybe some hand holding, or even a shy kiss.

Time for the bigger guns: Crystals

Nothing was more romantic than the frivolous gesture of giving crystals to the object of one’s affection, right? Jazz even managed to trade a rare Earth flowering plant for crystal blossoms from Hound’s personal collection. He had been reluctant to part with them but finally agreed when Jazz promised to take extra good care of them. 

The romantic meaning behind this symbol would not be mistaken for anything else. Reassured that such a blatant Cybertronian gesture would get the message across, Jazz placed it in Prow’s office went about his day. Whatever result he was expecting, it certainly wasn’t to see the crystal at the Lost and Found counter, with an angry Hound at that. 

Yes, Jazz did promise to take care of the rare crystal. No, he didn’t just leave it lying around and someone found it. Yes, he expected it to be cherished. And yes, Jazz admitted reluctantly, that he had given it to express his feelings for someone. (When had Hound become such and insightful mech?) 

Having made his escape from the well-meaning and sympathetic mech who offered to help, Jazz found himself back in his quarters and sighed with relief. He had not wanted to let anyone know about his crush until after the fact, if ever. In hindsight, maybe he should have left a note with the gift. He had a habit of leaving snacks and energon on Prowl’s desk and had taken it for granted that the tactician would know that the things left there were from Jazz. 

Well if subtle didn’t work, it was time to be direct. 

Prowl seemed surprised but happy when Jazz proposed they go for drinks after shift. The place he suggested was popular and might be crowded but, no worries, Jazz would make sure they had fun in their own way. Although his doorwings oscillated anxiously, the Enforcer nodded and claimed that he looked forward to it. 

And so did Jazz! With his spark swirling happily in his chest, the special ops agent went about his day with buoyancy and a smile that couldn’t be unglued from his lips. When Bumblebee commented on it, Jazz expected to be teased about his crush but was surprised when his teammate didn’t add more on the subject. It looked like Hound kept the gossip bit to himself after all. 

With that, he resumed his day with continued joy and excitement. Today was the day! He examined himself in the reflection of a monitor and wondered about his appearance. Although Prowl probably wouldn’t mind, Jazz wished he had time to polish his plating for the special occasion. But since they were both on duty until they met up again, it should be ok. 

Time ticked by lamentably slow, so when it was finally off-shift time, Jazz rushed out of his office nearly toppling over his chair. His enthusiasm rivaling Hot Rod’s youthful one when it came to down time. 

Grinning so hard, his cheeks ached, Jazz turned onto the hallway that led to Prowl’s department. He slowed his brisk pace when he saw the half-dozen mechs congregating outside the head tactician’s open office doorway. 

“Hey mechs, what’s happenin’?”

Bluestreak immediately broke from the group to join Jazz in walking the last few feet to Prowl’s office door. “Jazz! We’re having a happy hour. Can you believe it? A happy hour! Prowl has never organized anything of the sort before and we’re all super excited! Can we go yet?” he asked the group, while bouncing on his heels. 

Jazz could barely hold in his stupor as the Praxian bounded towards his teammates and chattered excitedly. 

Why would Prowl invite other people on their date? Was this some subtle way to reject Jazz without hurting his feelings? Did Prowl not want to be alone with Jazz? 

“Are you ok?” A kind voice came from behind him. 

Jazz tried to paste a nonchalant smile on his face but failed miserably. He turned to greet Hound. “Yeah, yeah. Just ... stunned, that’s all.” More like disappointed but he didn’t completely lie about the surprised part. And at least that showed on his face. 

A green hand clasped Jazz’s shoulder and squeezed compassionately. “I’m guessing this was supposed to be your date.”

Optic band flashing, Jazz gazed up at Hound. “How did you…”

“When Prowl invited the team, one of them, ok maybe _all_ of them, thought they heard wrong and straight out asked him why he was organizing a team outing. And Prowl said that it was you who was in charge of this event and that he was merely transmitting information.”

Jazz couldn’t speak over the disappointment that clawed at his throat. No, that wasn’t just disappointment he felt. This feeling ran much deeper than that. He had been sure that Prowl liked him enough to go on a date with him. He had seen some signs: the spark of pleasure in Prowl’s optics whenever he saw Jazz, the goodnight text messages, the way he remembered small details about Jazz, and even the way he seemed to be able read the mischievous mech. 

Maybe Jazz was wrong about the last part. Hope bloomed fragilely in his spark before dissipating. Maybe Prowl _could_ see through him and was avoiding him on purpose. 

“Do you want to duck out?” Hound asked softly. His sympathy was almost as suffocating as it was appreciated. “I can tell the others that you’re not feeling well.”

He wanted to take up the offer but Prowl stepped out of his office right at that moment and caught his gaze. The genuinely happy smile that broke out on his pretty face reignited the hope that had been doused out by this last failed attempt. 

Certainly, someone who didn’t want to spend time alone with you wouldn’t be so happy to see you, right? There must have been some sort of miscommunication somewhere. Determined, Jazz was going to make sure there were no assumptions or confusion the next time he asked Prowl out. Only clarity. 

Jazz was prepared and ready this time. He had checked his subspace multiple times during the day and he was more than ready. Normally, he waited for Prowl in the common room when their shift was over. He was always the first one to arrive since the tactical officer usually had last minute tasks to wrap up before leaving the office. 

Today was no different. Jazz chatted with his teammates and teased Ironhide with the news of a new brew of engex in his habitual playful way. Outwardly, nothing seemed to be amiss, but internally, Jazz was a turmoil of excitement and anticipation. Today he would get a clear answer and he wasn’t leaving until he got what he was looking for. 

Finally, the object of his affection crossed the doorway to the common room. Prowl looked a little weary with some crinkles around his optics but was still as handsome as ever. Spark stinging just a bit, Jazz vowed he would make sure that Prowl would have more laugh crinkles than of the worry kind from now on. 

“Prowl, just the mech I wanted to see.” Jazz caught him right before he reached the energon dispenser and pressed a cube into his hand. “I think I might have left my commlink in your office. Do you mind if we went to look for it?” 

“Of course.” Prowl walked back out through the doorway, sipping his energon appreciatively. Jazz had spiced it with just the perfect amount of magnesium. “I had wondered why I hadn’t received your habitual midday check-in message.”

Oh, did Prowl miss receiving Jazz’s emoji-laden messages? Hope unfurled further in the agent’s chest. Thankfully, the nature of his job enabled Jazz to control the output on his EM field, which proved useful in tamping down the excitement that flared brightly from displaying. Cycling his vents evenly, he brought his thumping spark back to a regular rhythm. 

They chatted about their day, and Jazz noticed how Prowl was interested in the gossip of the terror twins’ experiments in making energon sweets. The Enforcer asked more questions than usual. There was definitely something here. Did Prowl secretly like desserts? Jazz took note of that and stepped aside for Prowl to unlock his office. 

Ever assiduous, Prowl immediate bent down to scan under his desk. Jazz pretended to look behind the decorative steel plant and stopped to examine a holographic picture frame on the desk. It had just rotated to an image of Prowl with Jazz and Prime at the last team building activity. Prowl was totaling the score on the side while Jazz was in the foreground high-fiving with Optimus. The tactician had a faint (but cute) smile tugging at his lips, making his normally stoic face open and soft. The image flickered to a new one, as these screen picture frames were programmed to do, and Jazz focused back on the task at hand. 

“Hmm, maybe I left it in my habsuite. Oops!” He swung his hand a bit too far and knocked over a pot of silver styluses. The tools clattered over the surface and pinged on the floor when a few rolled over the edge of the desk. “Ah, sorry, Prowl!” 

“It’s no trouble.” Prowl sat down on his chair to be closer to the mess.

Item ready in his subspace, Jazz moved soundlessly beside the office chair. When the tactician leveraged himself on an armrest to retrieve the fallen objects, Jazz swiftly clipped the stasis cuffs onto Prowl’s wrist and the chair, binding his dense maybe-future-partner. 

Prowl’s field flared with light surprise. “What is the meaning of this,” he asked when he drew himself back upright. 

Grinning widely and feeling profusely proud of his plan, Jazz saucily braced a hip onto the edge of the desk. “I need a favor, Prowler.”

Optic ridges arching, Prowl didn’t bother to hide his curiosity. “‘A favor?’”

Drawing himself closer to the pretty mech, Jazz stopped to admire the blue optics and blatantly stared, completely smitten. “Yeah, let me be at your side. Let me be your partner.” His voice might be a tad softer than he wanted it to be but at least he said his piece. 

Brows furrowing further, Prowl regarded his companion with confusion. “... You want to be my lieutenant? There are better methods to apply for a transfer of departments, Jazz.”

It was Jazz’s turn to be confused, but only for a moment. They had waltzed through this fog numerous times, layering misunderstanding on top of misinterpretations, sidestepping true intentions in the name of status quo. 

“No, I mean go out with me. Promise me that you’ll try. I know it’s strange since we’re friends and have been friends forever.” Scrap, he was babbling. Jazz took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, completely aware that Prowl was watching him with wide optics. Yeah well how would anyone react if their best friend asked them out? He should count himself lucky that Prowl hasn’t laughed it off. “Promise me you’ll try and I’ll remove the cuffs.”

“And if I refuse?” 

_Please, no!_ Smirk back in place, Jazz leaned back bracing his arm on the desk surface, faking confidence he didn’t feel. “Then I guess I’ll have to bring you cubes to the office everyday.” It was a joke but Prowl stared at him for so long that Jazz’s core temperature heated up a few degrees. 

“Ok,” Prowl finally answered. 

Jazz instantly perked up, visor flashing with delight. “Yeah?”

“Yes, I’ll go out with you.” Was that a small smile Jazz glimpsed on the corner of the tactician’s lips? _Ok ok, play it cool. Don’t get too excited and scare him off._

“Alright! Let’s go on a date then.”

“How about now?”

“Now sounds great!”

Prowl stood up and opened the door. 

Jazz could feel his jaw hanging open but couldn’t help it. “You… picked the lock. How? When?” When had the enforcer acquire such a skill?

Optics sparkling, Prowl smirked back at him, and Jazz’s spark made a backflip. “I picked my date. You coming?”


End file.
